


The Monsters of Our Mind

by GeorgeOaks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst and Humor, Drinking, Fluff and Smut, Healing, Healthy Coping Mechanisms, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Strangers to Lovers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Winchester Coping Mechanisms, getting better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 21:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14881464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeorgeOaks/pseuds/GeorgeOaks
Summary: Dean only said he’d do it if Sammy did it too. He didn’t expect Sammy to agree! Now he’s in a room full of strangers, here to gripe about his feelings, Mr. Sad Eyes over there has taken to only sitting next to Dean, and Jesus, kid, he knows you need a fiddle toy but dude… that’s slime.The whole thing’s a shitstorm. So what if it turns out therapy isn’t just an expensive form of whining.





	The Monsters of Our Mind

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I started over a year ago. I myself had to take some time off and join several programs at a local psychiatric hospital. This is one of the many things that came out of that experience. I've continued to work on my mental health, and now I'm pleased to report that I've finally gotten off some medication and have dropped down in therapy. To keep fighting and improving, I've been reviewing my little binder of all the things from my time there, and as I do so, I'm putting them in here for these characters!
> 
> Yay for fic-fuel! 
> 
> The goal of this fic is to correctly represent therapy. There will be mentions of things such as suicide, attempted suicide, self-harm, depression, a whole slew of mental disorders and illnesses, and everything else that comes with a fic that has therapy in it. Please be warned if that's a potential trigger for you, but also keep in mind the mentions come up in a safe environment in order to heal and get better.
> 
> As always with everything I post, this is a WIP, I have no beta, there will be typos.

 

He never in a million years thought Sam would go through with it.

Not when Sam called and made their appointments. Not when he put the address into _both_ of their Waze apps on their phones – fucker knowing his passcode.

Not when Sam returned home one day with binders, for both brothers, along with binder dividers, plenty of paper, and those little plastic slip things, along with an assortment of pens and pencils. Dean laughed at him, called him a dork, and made fun of him for wasting all that time, material, and money because obviously, they weren’t going to be using them.

Not when Sam secured both of them time off and got Bobby on board to check in on them and their house, so when the hospital called to double check their assertions of their house, ie, any and all weapons were secured, medications put away, that sort of thing, someone other than them could confirm it.

Not when he and Sam spent hours at the hospital being evaluated, them both agreeing on the hospital’s recommendations.

Not when they arrived on their first day an hour early to fill out more and more paperwork, make sure their insurance was all squared away, the payments were met, and they met with the psychiatrist in the program and got prescribed a shit ton of pills.

No, when Dean said he would go through all the mental health shit if Sam did, too, he was so sure Sam would back out at the last minute, and they both would go home with Dean laughing his ass off and having something to hold over Sam whenever he felt the need to make fun of him.

So, he wasn’t just surprised when he found himself being ushered into a room for group therapy with Sam bouncing on the balls of his feet, excited like his first day of college. He was royally pissed.

“These are your check-in sheets,” the nurse told them, gesturing to the file slots on the wall by the door: the top two slots holding clipboards, the bottom holding forms. Dean reached for one and pulled it out, reading CHECK-IN SHEET at the top. “Every morning, just grab one, fill it out, and turn it in to Tessa.”

“Tessa?” Sam asked, also grabbing a sheet. Dean reached for a clipboard since he didn’t bring the binder Sam bought him, much to Sam’s aggravation.

“Your counselor.”

They both nodded, stepping out the way to allow a few people past them.

“The first couple of days are always hectic. You’ll be pulled out several times for this or that, but it’ll settle down soon. I’m Meg, my office is right there,” she pointed to a room across the hall. “Enjoy.” With that, she turned and walked off.

“Enjoy,” Dean repeated flatly after her.

“Well, let’s take a seat,” Sam smiled at him. Before Sam could fully scan the room and probably pick seats that would have them spotlighted, Dean quickly took a seat close to the door. Sam frowned at him, but followed, sitting on his right and leaving the last seat on his left free.

As Sam immediately took to studying and filling out his check-in sheet, Dean took to observing the room and the people slowly filing in.

The room was surprisingly cozy looking. It was regular sized, boring beige walls, but had nature paintings around. Covering the fluorescent lights were tiles with pleasantly sunny-day-and-fluffy-clouds pictures on them. Floor lamps were in three corners of the room, each blocked by a small, white bookshelf, giving a warm glow to the room. Behind him in the fourth corner was a bin holding yoga mats and pillows, which he was thankful were to his back. Looking at yoga mats would just make him think of Lisa.

Black chairs lined around the room, a cabinet here or there tucked behind them, and as the people settled in, they grabbed toys from cloth organizers on the bookshelves; others pulled out coloring books, word puzzles, and a whole lot of food. Bananas, doughnuts, chocolate bars, breakfast sandwiches. They had the nerve to lock up his phone and Baby’s keys at sign-in, and no one bothered to inform him he could bring pie?

Dean let out a frustrated sigh and looked down at his check-in sheet.

Name? Easy. He scribbled Dean Winchester at the top where indicated, along with the date.

How did he feel this morning? Really? Underneath were several options available for circling, including an “Other:” below that. Sighing again, Dean moved on without answering.

No, he was not thinking about self-harm, suicide, or harming others (other than Sam).

No, he was not having any hallucinations or hearing voices.

No, he had not taken his medication as prescribed since last treatment. Why, the sheet asked? Because this was his first fucking day, and he was literally just prescribed his drugs. He resisted the urge to add a “duh” after his explanation.

He circled no for if he had questions for the nurses or if any medications needed to be refilled, no for having drunk alcohol or taken any drugs since last treatment, for obvious reasons. Wrote down he had gotten 4 hours of sleep. Appetite normal. No new stressors.

Goal for the day? Originally, he was going to write ‘not kill his brother’, but considering where they were, he figured the sarcasm wouldn’t be appreciated. So instead he simply wrote to not get in a fight with his brother.

He didn’t know when any next sessions for anything were, nor had any changes in his number or address, so with a polite “x” on those lines, he signed, dated, and noted the time at the bottom as prompted.

Looking back up to how he felt… Well, he was supposed to be honest, right?

Hungry.

Tired.

Angry.

Paranoid.

Suspicious.

Guarded.

And for an extra emphasis, added, “pissed as hell” in the Other section. Once he was finished, he unceremoniously dropped the clipboard on the floor in front of him and rubbed his eyes.

“Alright, I think that’s everyone,” a dark-haired woman with IDs dangling from her belt said as he closed the door. She had a different, personalized clipboard, along with several papers. He remembered her as a counselor they had spoken to earlier. So, it began.

Tessa sat down in the chair opposite from the door and looked around to everyone as the room settled down. “Good morning, everyone. Hope everyone had a good weekend. For those who are new, I’m Tessa and will be leading this group. Okay, so,” she adjusted the clipboard on her lap while crossing her legs and placing the stack of papers in the empty chair beside her. “Who would like to go first?”

“I will,” a cheerful looking redhead said a few seats down from Sam. She was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, wearing bright pink pajama pants, a green hoodie, and was nibbling from what looked like a small box of breakfast cereal. Looking down at the clipboard on the floor in front of her, she said, “I’m positive, hopeful, anxious, tired, and sad. No, no, yes. And my goal for today is to apply for more jobs.”

Tessa nodded, scribbling on her clipboard. “What’s with the sad today, Charlie?”

The girl, Charlie, shrugged her shoulders. “I just miss my mom.”

Tessa nodded in clear understanding, wrote something else down, and said, “Okay, who’s next?”

“Me!” a bouncy brunette from across the room said. He was sitting cross-legged in his chair, wearing regular jeans and t-shirt, with his own brown and bland clipboard balancing on his knee. “I am happy, hungry, anxious, paranoid, and hyper. No, no, yes. And my goal today is to practice making cherry toffies.”

“That’s excellent, Gabe,” Tessa smiled at him. “Any success with the blueberry ones?”

“Nope. They all tasted like shit.”

Snickers and giggles went around the room.

“I’m sorry,” Sam interrupted. “No, no, yes?”

“The first three questions on the check-in sheet,” Gabe answered. Both Sam and Dean looked down at Sam’s check-in sheet to look at the questions. Self-harm, hallucinations, medication.  Sam nodded his thanks to Gabe while Dean crossed his arms.

“Yes, we go around the room, report how we’re feeling, answer those questions, and tell the room our goal for the day. It’s how we open each day. Okay, who’s next?” Tessa asked.

“I’ll go,” the blonde man beside Gabe answered. “I’m angry, ambivalent, paranoid, suspicious, and calm. No, no, yes. And my goal is to _stay_ calm.”

“Very good, Lucifer,” Tessa praised, adding to the notes in her lap.

“Lucifer?” Sam and Dean asked at the same time. Lucifer just nodded, along with a few others, but no one explained.

“Next?” Tessa asked the room.

“I’ll go,” Sam volunteered.

Dean rolled his eyes.

“I’m positive, hopeful, happy, calm, and nervous -“

“You can’t be calm and nervous, Sam,” Dean chastised.

“I can be what I want, Dean,” Sam sneered.

“Okay, okay,” Tessa interrupted before Dean could respond. “Everyone, this is Sam and Dean Winchester, brothers, and this is their first day. Often times emotions can be paradoxical,” she then addressed the brothers. “It is possible to be overall calm, but still have some reservations and nerves, especially on a day like today for both of you. Sam, do you want to further explain what you’re feeling to help Dean understand where you’re coming from?”

“Uh,” Sam shifted in his seat. “Sure.” He took a deep breath, then turned to face Dean. “I feel really good about us being here and doing this, so I guess that’s helping me feel calm. But I’m still nervous about what this will entail.”

Dean just stared at him for a few moments, then grunted in acceptance. “Fine,” he mumbled. Sam smiled at him, big and bright, which just pissed Dean off more.

“Very good, Sam,” Tessa said. “Go on.”

“Uh… well, uh… No, no, and well, no, since I was just prescribed and, well, this is our first day.”

Tessa nodded and smiled in understanding, gesturing for Sam to continue.

“And uh, I guess, my goal is just to get through the first day,” Sam shrugged shyly.

“That’s an excellent goal, Sam.”

“I’d say,” Gabe piped up from across the room. “Most of the time my goal is just to get through the day, period.”

“Yeah,” a blonde girl from the back wall said. “That’s literally my goal today.”

“Well, do you want to go next, Jo?” Tessa asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” grumbled the blonde. “Hungry, tired, anxious, nervous, sad, hopeless, low energy, and depressed. No, no, yes. And goal, well, I already said it.”

“Indeed you did,” Tessa nodded. “Talk to me about all the negative emotions going on this morning.”

“Well, this weekend fucking sucked. I had to pull doubles because mommy-dearest was too busy to take care of her own fucking bar. And yet, of course, I’m still too immature and stupid to be allowed to move away on my own.”

“Mhm,” Tessa hummed, scribbling. “Sounds like there’s some anger in there as well.”

Jo shrugged. “Not so much. I’m just… tired.”

Tessa nodded, finishing up her notes. “Is there anything we as a group could do to help you today?”

Jo shook her head, picking up a coloring book.

“Okay,” Tessa said. “If that changes, just let us know, okay?”

Jo nodded, though she looked like that was the least likely thing to happen.

“Next?” Tessa asked again.

A Korean boy curled in on himself in the corner raised his hand.

“Okay, Kevin. How are you this morning?”

“Uh…” Kevin’s quiet voice started. “Paranoid. Suspicious. Guarded. Depressed. Sad. Anxious. Scared. No, yes, yes. And to see the doctor today.”

As Tessa probed Kevin what he was seeing or hearing that wasn’t real, the door opened, and a man slipped inside, grabbing a sheet and clipboard, and turning to sit on Dean’s left. The man looked all-out ill. He was pale, dark hair an absolute mess, and dark circles under brilliant blue eyes that, despite Dean never seeing this man before, looked duller than what they should be. He had stubble across his jaw and his hands looked a little shaky as he clipped on the sheet and began answering it. His jeans and stained gray Henley were wrinkled, and Dean was genuinely surprised the man didn’t stink to high heavens. In fact, he smelled pretty good, like he just doused himself in Old Spice before he came in.

“Just the growling,” Kevin was answering. “From the hellhounds.”

“That’s good, Kevin,” praised Tessa. “That’s a big improvement from just last week.”

Kevin nodded, then went back to playing with what looked like a blue glop.

“Okay, there’s four of you left. Who’s next?”

“I guess me,” sighed a British woman a few seats down from Lucifer. “I feel hungry, tired, angry, guarded, annoyed, and hurt. No, no, yes. And my goal is just to be present.”

Tessa nodded. “What’s got you hurt today, Bella?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” the woman snapped.

“Okay. Do we need to have a one-on-one later on?”

Bella considered Tessa for a moment before she curtly nodded her head. After Tessa made a few more notes, she looked around the room again.

“Me,” a woman with dark hair, a low-cut top, and sunglasses said from beside Tessa, handing Tessa a blank check-in sheet. “Positive, hungry, sad, and bored.” As she spoke, Tessa circled the emotions for her and began filling out her sheet. “No, no, yes. And my goal is to buy a new walking stick. Preferably one with flames on it.”

“That sounds very nice, Pam,” Tessa said. “Do you have any questions for anyone?”

Pam shook her head. “Seven hours sleep, normal appetite, no on the drinking.”

“Alright. And your safety number?”

“Uhhh…” Pam dragged out. “I’d call it a 6.”

Tessa hummed her acknowledgment. “Okay then,” she said, turning to where Dean and the late guy sat. “Down to two. One of you check in with me, yeah?”

The man next to Dean cleared his throat. “Uh… I’m tired, anxious, nervous, guarded, and low energy. No, no, yes. And uh… I don’t know. Make another attempt at laundry?”

Tessa nodded and smiled at the man. “And if you fail?”

The man sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Then I fail, and that’s okay.”

“Exactly. How’s the drinking, Castiel?”

The man shrugged, and Dean couldn’t help but sneak a peek at the man’s form. Yes, on the drinking since last treatment, but Dean couldn’t make out the description of how much underneath. “At least it wasn’t whiskey,” the man answered.

Some people snickered or laughed, but Tessa just nodded and took some notes.

“Well, okay, Dean,” she said once she was finished, folding her hands in her lap and giving him her full attention. “Check in with us. How are you doing this morning?”

Dean heaved a heavy sigh, causing Jo and Charlie to grin at him. Picking up his clipboard from the floor, Dean answered, “Hungry, tired, angry, paranoid, suspicious, guarded, and pissed off. No, no, no. And my goal is to not fight with my brother.”

Tessa smirked at both Dean and Sam. “Well, you sound quite the opposite of Sam. Let me guess, all of this was Sam’s idea?”

Sam nodded shyly while Dean answered a heavy, “Yep,” popping the ‘p’.

“Well, welcome nonetheless, Dean. Is there anything we as a group can do to make you feel safer and more willing to give us a try?”

That was the last response Dean was expecting. He was expecting a “This is for the best,” or, “Why are you feeling this way?”, or even a, “Leave your temper at the door.”

“Uh… no?” he answered.

“Group, what about you guys? Anything you can think of to help make Dean feel more comfortable?”

“I’ll share my chocolate,” Gabe said, tossing Dean a bar. Dean caught it, but before he could react, Charlie leaned over and said, “The first few days can be scary, but just stick with it. It gets better. And it’s worth it. It really is.”

Dean just nodded meekly, and Tessa began passing out packets and collecting check-in sheets while Lucifer started talking about how everything in the hospital could be improved to make patients feel more comfortable, including adding a pool.

“Suspicious,” the man, Castiel, muttered meanwhile, quickly circling that emotion on his own sheet before Tessa collected it.

“I’m proud of you, Dean,” Sam whispered beside him.

“And I can’t believe you,” Dean hissed back. “I can’t fucking believe we’re doing this.”

“You heard Charlie, Dean. It’s worth it. Just give it a shot.”

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing?”

Dean, already feeling hot, tugged off his blue flannel and crossed his arms again over his black t-shirt. Sure, he had been getting into trouble lately, but it was not like an arrest record would be the thing preventing him from “moving on up” like Sam was. That would be because he was high school dropout. Sam, on the other hand, was going to go to law school, for Christ’s sake. Sam was the one with the most to lose, the one who should keep his nose clean. It didn’t matter what the fuck Dean did. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. He was just living his life. Fuck.

“So,” Tessa said, taking back her seat. “As you can see, this morning’s topic is communication. Who would like to start reading?”

Dean had his packet draped over his left thigh, but he refused to open it.

“I’ll read,” Pam cooed, making the others laugh.

“Unfortunately, this one’s not printed in braille,” Tessa teased back.

“Damn.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, it clicked for Dean that Pam was blind, but that information immediately got filed away as unimportant since his bad mood was firmly holding precedence.

Charlie cleared her throat and began to read, “ _A large portion of our lives is spent communicating with others. Sharing your thoughts and understanding another person’s feelings are essential skills for functioning in any society in the world. It is no surprise then that difficulty with communication is the #1 issue that brings people…”_

Dean zoned out, watching as the others played with toys, colored, read along, and in Sam’s case, take notes. Fucking _notes_. Castiel beside him though was fiddling with the pages and didn’t turn over the first page when everyone else did. Dean looked over at Castiel and studied him. He was biting his lip, his eyes unfocused, and little twitches of his eyebrows were the only thing that gave away that he was, in fact, listening.

“… _Two Person Problem. Without exception, all communication problems are two-person problems. Yes. Anytime there is a misunderstanding, it is the fault of both the sender and the receiver. Let’s go back to the example from the last section…”_

Castiel let his lip slide out from his teeth and began clenching his jaw and shaking his right leg a little. Well, the guy did say he was anxious and nervous. Dean wondered what the difference was between the two words, and if he himself had ever been both at the same time.

“… _1\. Be aware of your own communication errors. We are all susceptible to sending confusing messages and to missing the boat in terms of what someone else was trying to tell us. When we are aware that all of us can make all the communication mistakes in this article, we can adjust…”_

Castiel huffed a little and crossed his own arms like he disagreed but was nodding his head all the same. Well, from Dean own experience, nothing sucked worse than that moment during an argument when you realize you’re wrong. It’s not fun accept you might be part of the problem. He wondered if the man was feeling that way, by his reaction.

“… _the right understanding. After hearing something, especially if it strikes you strangely, ask the sender if you are hearing it correctly instead of trusting your interpretation completely. Think about how many arguments can be prevented with just that one! Counseling can be a great …_ ”

Finally, Castiel closed his eyes, sighing just a little, and rolled his shoulders. The action made Dean realize he was blatantly staring at the guy and forced himself to shift his focus to the floor just in time for Charlie to finish reading.

“Okay,” Tessa said brightly. “Group. What do you think of this article?”

“It would definitely be my wife’s wet dream, that’s for sure,” Lucifer started with snorts and snickers from around the room. “She’s always going on about how I don’t listen. I mean, Jesus! I’m trying. But how am I supposed to know being in charge of dinner meant cooking it instead of just ordering pizza?”

More snickers around the room as Tessa grinned good-naturedly. “Definitely sounds like some send/receiver problems there. What can you do in a situation like that to help make it better?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Ask if she had specifics in mind?”

Tessa nodded. “That’s a good start.”

“But the thing is,” Lucifer added, “if I did that, she would just say ‘I don’t know’, leave it up to me, then still get pissed off at whatever choice I make.”

“God, I hate it when women do that,” Jo groaned. “I don’t expect people to read my mind. If I want a fucking romantic dinner, I ask for a fucking romantic dinner.”

“Exactly,” Bella added. “If you leave everything up to the other person, you have no right to get mad if they didn’t do what you wanted.”

“This is very true,” Tessa agreed. “So, Lucifer, what else can you do?”

“Sounds like she’s the one who needs to alter her communication,” Dean mumbled.

“What was that, Dean?” Tessa asked, friendly as ever.

“Well, I mean…” Dean started, shifting a little in his seat now that all eyes were on him. “He’s doing everything he can, right? Sounds like she’s the one with the problem here.”

Lucifer snorted, “Ain’t that the truth.”

“Yes,” Tessa grinned. Dean was starting to like her. She was light. Not taking everything so fucking serious like Sam had been lately. “However, group, do we see the problem with that?”

“You can’t control other people’s actions, only your own,” Gabe announced proudly.

“Yeah... So,” Lucifer sighed. “I guess what I could do is talk to her. Tell her what position she’s putting me in when she does that kind of thing and ask if we can work on it together.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Lucifer,” Tessa praised. “And remember that she might not be as agreeable in the beginning, especially if this is what she’s used to. You just have to hold your boundaries and be _assertive_ with Lilith, not aggressive.”

Lucifer nodded.

“Okay, what else?” Tessa asked the room. “What parts stood out to you?”

Sam cleared his throat after a moment when no one else answered, immediately making Dean tense. “Uh, well… The Send Problems section stood out to me.”

“How so?” Tessa asked, scribbling on that damn clipboard. What the fuck was she thinking about Sam already?

“Well, like,” Sam started, referring to his notes all over the page, “the part about how you would tell a three-year-old you’re hungry differently from how you would tell an adult. I mean, it’s like with Lucifer,” he paused to nervously nod to the man who nodded back. “You can do everything you can to be a good receiver, but if the sender isn’t doing the same, it just doesn’t work. And like, it’s hard to speak up… it’s like our dad _never_ gave us a chance to learn any other ways of communication. It was always just his way. Like, we never had the opportunity to just be like, ‘Hey, Dad, I’ve made friends here, can we consider that before moving?’ He always shot us down – “

“Speak for yourself, Sammy,” Dean snapped, anger boiling. Of course, _of course_ , Sam would take this as an opportunity to bad-mouth their father.

“Well, it’s true, Dean,” Sam said.

“No, Dean’s right,” Tessa interrupted. “You can only speak for yourself. It might have looked the same, but Dean’s and your father’s communication with each other might have been completely different.”

“Yeah, to punch each other–“

Dean elbowed Sam so hard, Sam actually huffed a cough.

“Dean, please keep your limbs to yourself, and Sam, please stick to only your own experiences,” Tessa said sternly, and how she still sounded friendly was beyond Dean.

Automatically, both Dean and Sam replied, “Yes, ma’am,” making the whole group laugh.

“Please, call me Tessa,” she chuckled.

“Sorry, okay, uh, Tessa,” Sam nodded to her. “Well, okay, I can’t speak for Dean. But for me, Dad never listened. Never. Like, when I got into Stanford. He didn’t even try to listen about the college or scholarship, he just yelled at me and kicked me out.”

“Kicked you out?” Gabe asked. “Because you got into college?”

Sam nodded as Dean snorted. Sam threw him a glare, but Dean just raised his hands in surrender and said, “Hey, ain’t my experience.”

“What’s with the snort, Dean? It’s what happened,” Sam snapped.

Dean bit back the comment, ‘not from where I’m standing’, and just said, “For you, that’s what happened.” He knew it probably sounded like a controlled comment meant for calming and peace, but he knew Sam knew him well enough to know it was nothing but condescending.

“It’s _what_ happened!”

“Okay, hold on,” Tessa refereed. “Sam, we’re focused on you, not Dean. So, you got into Stanford, and when you tried to speak with your father, he kicked you out. What, if anything, could _you_ have done to help prevent that outcome.”

Sam shrugged, eyes becoming unfocused as he undoubtedly was remembering that night. After the silence drugged out several seconds, Dean offered, “You could have waited until he was sober.”

Beside him, Castiel snorted. “Yeah. No offense - Sam, was it? That should have probably been number one.” Castiel addressed him with a smile, eyes twinkling with nothing but humor and support.

“Yeah, okay. I should have done that,” Sam admitted.

“Yes,” Tessa agreed. “What else, Sam?”

“I, uh… I don’t know.”

“I do,” Dean said, and he surprised with how willing he was to talk about it. Sam, however, was having none of it.

“Yeah, I know, Dean. I should have been a good little boy like you and followed orders.”

“That’s not…” Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Well, here we go, guys. Sam, group,” Tessa piped up. “We have our own communication example if Sam and Dean are willing. Group, let’s help them figure this out. Sam, you are struggling to find ways you yourself could have changed how you sent and received messages that day. Dean, you think you have suggestions. Let’s all help Sam and Dean discuss this without it ending in an argument, and where both sides are heard and speak their minds. Sam, Dean, do you want to try?”

Sam nodded hesitantly while Dean just stared with an eyebrow cocked in challenge to the therapist. A whole group, helping him say two cents worth of something Sam had probably needed to hear for years? He’d take it.

“Okay,” Tessa adjusted in her seat. “Dean. You said you have ideas of how Sam could have changed that conversation with your father. Let’s start with just one. Remember, be aware of what you’re saying, who you’re saying it to, choose your words – and actions – carefully. Sam, remember to check in with Dean if something sounds not right to you. Not necessarily if you disagree, just if you might be misunderstanding the message. Okay?”

Both men nodded, and Dean cleared his throat and uncrossed his arms. Actions. Dean rubbed his hands on his thighs, leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees.

“Okay, uh… Sam,” he said, glancing at his brother but settling his eyes on the floor. “Dad shouldn’t have done what he did, I know that, and so do you. So does he. But that night, you didn’t give Dad any time to think about it or adjust. Hell, we didn’t even know you were applying or that you were thinking of college _at all_. You just came in that night and announced you were leaving, moving across the country, in a week. The rug was ripped out from under him – under us. No one would just jump for joy the moment they hear their brother, their son, is leaving them.”

Sam was looking down at his hands, and when silence spread, it was Pam that spoke first. “That definitely would have felt like a kick in the nuts if my son did that.”

“Yeah,” agreed Lucifer. “I mean, that’s great for you and all, and he should have been excited, but if he thought you were staying home…”

“I guess,” Sam mumbled.

“Okay, Sam,” Tessa prompted, “how about you respond. Tell Dean why you took the approach you did.”

“Fine, well… Dad never seemed happy or like he approved of, well, almost anything I did. Especially at the idea of me settling down or pursuing my own things. I just… I don’t know, I just thought it would be easier if I did all the legwork first, and just informed him when it was set and done and when he couldn’t take it away from me.”

“Take away…” Castiel mused. “I’ve done that. So afraid to lose or have something taken away that’s good and makes me happy that I keep it to myself until I absolutely can’t anymore.”

“Yes,” Sam sighed, slouching down, obviously relieved someone was agreeing with him. “Exactly.”

Dean never thought of that. He knew it was something Sammy really wanted, but he never thought about it as something Sam was trying to protect. Something Sam was scared to lose.

“Well,” Dean said, “I can get that. And you and I both know Dad would too. So why were you so harsh?”

“Harsh?” Sam asked, sounding so genuinely confused. Dean finally turned to look at him.

“Sam, you spent like, your whole life complaining about the life we lived. You were never happy and made damn sure we knew about it. That night… It was like you threw it in Dad’s face, and you made it sound like getting away from him – from us – would be the only way you would be happy. I mean, I know we didn’t have the best, believe me, Sam, I know. And I know it was hard on you, moving around all the time. But I just feel like…” Dean sighed, picking up that damn packet that might be worth something, after all, thumbing through to find something he heard. “This. _Without exception, all communication problems are two-person problems._ Instead of being happy for yourself, and encouraging us to understand and be happy, too, when we didn’t give you the reaction you wanted, you went full attack dog. You didn’t make it sound like you were doing it for a great future. You made it sound like you were doing it because your past was just _that_ horrible.”

Sam was biting his lip, nodding, and looking like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

“I’ve done that too,” Gabe said gently across the room. “Hell, I’ve probably do that too fucking much. I know where to verbally punch, and boy, do I hit the sore spots when I want something.”

“You aren’t kidding,” Bella added, crossing her legs elegantly. “It’s easy to do. I’ve been manipulating clients that way for years.”

“You would,” Charlie rolled her eyes. “I’m willing to bet everyone in here had not only done that but has done that too many times to count. I mean, fuck, just the shit I said to my girlfriend before all of this,” she waved around the room, “is enough to make me want to hang myself. And I didn’t even realize until I was in-patient.”

“After all, this is why we even have a packet for this,” Castiel added, fiddling with the pages again. “Just simply as humans, we can get so consumed with emotion, need, want, desires, that we don’t recognize what we’re doing or saying at the time.” He looked over Dean to Sam, who was still looking guilty as hell. “That’s also why it’s a two person problem. You didn’t think enough how your words would affect your family. Your family didn’t try hard enough to know why Stanford was so important to you that you reacted the way you did. I’m sorry you lost your home, but,” he gestured toward Dean, “it doesn’t seem like you have lost your family.”

Dean and Castiel caught each other’s eyes for the first time since the man came in late. Castiel gave him an encouraging, albeit small, smile, nodding toward Sam. Dean gave back a half-nod, looked over at Sam a moment, then flung a dramatic arm around Sam’s shoulders, pulling him close.

“Hell no, you haven’t. And I tell you what – I’ve been pissed for years over that Stanford shit. Now, not so much. Look at us, in therapy.” He grinned at Sam in the same way he always did to show Sammy he wasn’t mad and ruffled his hair.

Sam nudged at him from underneath his arm, “Does this mean you’ll admit therapy might work?”

Dean pushed Sam away just as dramatic as before, scoffing, “Shut the fuck up, Sammy.”

The whole room laughed again.

When they settled, Tessa asked, “What about you Kevin? How does this article resonant with you?” From there, other people spoke their minds, while everyone else gave support and shared similar stories. Dean participated some, even told Pam to “fuck that bitch” when talking about her sister, causing more laughter among the group, particularly from both Tessa and Pam.

By the time Tessa called for break, Dean made a mental note to go back and read the rest of the article.

**Author's Note:**

> If anything I've put in from my real time in group therapy helps anyone, I would absolutely love to know. As well as your thoughts in general. All reviews welcomed! (Please be kind.) If I misrepresent anything, feel free to point it out so I may correct it.
> 
> I would absolutely love to hear from you guys, even if it's just a thumbs-up!! Please don't feel shy about commenting! I'd love to know your thoughts!


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